Cac·o·e·thes

I thought about kissing you for two years.

The two years we held our ordered silence

in forced withdrawal.

I trembled through the night terrors

alone.

I willed my body to eat

even when I was so full of loss

that the thought of adding to myself

was nauseating.

Two years after you left in the night

and finally the scar on my chest is fading.

It is so hard to cry and mourn

for someone you’re not allowed to see again,

I used to think it would be easier if you were dead-

then at least the absence of you would make sense.

I thought about kissing you for two hollow years;

kissing the split in your bottom lip-

kissing the beauty mark above your mouth.

I wanted you to kiss the parts of me

that strangers had taken pictures of.

The parts of me displayed in the courtroom.

I wanted to savor your tongue

And not taste the bitterness of drugs.

But this story is not like others.

Because when we served our time-

while ill advised-

My kiss was yours

And yours was divine.